


Mechanical Teeth

by TearoomSaloon



Series: Bite Down [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Dark, Dark Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, Kylo does not hurt her in any shape or form, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Really?, Past Rape/Non-con, Protectiveness, Unredeemed!Kylo, You Decide, but he's not good not even slightly, he really truly does love her here, just in case, the warning is for the mention because there is no active rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:50:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wouldn't come back to the light, that much was clear.<br/>But sometimes, sometimes, it was nice to have a more ferocious demon to fight against her nightmares. And he would kill for her, his yellowing eyes promising a fate worse than death to all who dared mark her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mechanical Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Those tags are a mess but I need to stress so, so much that the rape mentioned is a past childhood trauma, not something Kylo inflicts upon Rey. He's as gentle as a monster can be.  
> The description of it isn't graphic but please, if you can't/don't want to deal with that sort of thing, it's best not to proceed.
> 
> This spiraled out of control. It's formed on the idea that he grows darker as he loves harder and she does not waver from light to dark for him.
> 
> I haven't a fucking clue what the title means.

It was harder than it should have been to describe true terror. The sort of horror that arose when she knew he was there, looking for her, searching out her scent on a high mountain breeze.

It would be incorrect, she figured, to call this monstrosity love. She scrambled deeper into the foggy forest, the opaque mist dampening her eyesight. The trees rose far above and she wove like a string through the eye of a needle, clouds of white brushing against her skin in humid clumps. In a childish act of preservation, her mind imagined her as a lilliputian, racing along between the legs of giants, caught amidst a forest tavern where they puffed surreal fog pipes and she was most certainly not sprinting for her life.

Higher, higher into the blanketed alpine forest she rose, the chill of the dew-soaked air clinging to her damp clothing, the cloth not thick enough to protect or warm her clammy skin. She wondered for a brief and stricken second if he were also as uncomfortable in his garb, his thick-coiled muscles burning more heat into the atmosphere than her wiry frame could ever hope to achieve.

 _Monster, monster, monster_.

A rock broke loose in a leap, splintered and wobbled under her boot as she lunged up a small ledge. Her balance lost, she slid, skidding down into the muddied rugged dirt. She grit her teeth to the taste of burnt soil and tried in vain to salvage her blunder. He would be upon her in a moment and there was little left to do to hide, but she rose on shaking legs and scraped her palms in an ascent up a rock face. Her ankles roared when her heels slapped hard stone, pain jolting fast and angrily up her shins. She wouldn’t be caught, she wouldn’t—

But he was there before her, somehow twisting ahead in her fevered dash up the mountain. His legs were long but she was quick, she was so quick. With his size, he should not have been able to outpace her, but oh, there he was. Black-clad and mad in the eyes. He was so drenched in Darkness it seemed to seep from his pores, ooze into the forest, distort their surroundings. Tree trunks looked more like charcoal-scorched bones, their branches feeble fingers in the still air. Yellow pricked through his irises, whispering that he’d grown deeper into his malicious skin since they’d last met.

“You have something I want.” His voice was sweet like honey but soured in her ears, his words weighing red iron on her tongue. She had nothing he could want, or need.

He chuckled, the sound drifting through her head, his lips never moving.

“On the contrary, you are all I need.”

He cast her immobile and it was more strength than she had to resist. She counted down from ten and by seven the world left her feet and her eyes saw only night.

 

She came to her senses atop a plush bed, fingers curling into soft, soft sheets. She might have wished to stay there if the sinking fear of _him_  had not caught up to her, made her raise her head. Had he compromised her in her sleep? Done something unsavory to her body? She felt about to vomit and then—

“I would _never_  touch you like that without your permission.” He leaned against the far wall, his cowl discarded and his lightsaber not present on his belt.

“Monsters lie. Why should I believe you?”

“This monster loves, and surely that outweighs the lie.”

He moved towards her, his gait strange to her eyes. He was enormous in height and breadth, built like an ursid, but his movement was almost serpentine, almost feline. When he stopped before her, those yellowing irises held her paralyzed in fearful anticipation. Would he hurt her now? Why couldn’t she bring herself to fight back? Or run?

His gloves were off, the smooth skin of his hands fast approaching her face. His palm was rougher than she expected, fingers slipping across her cheekbone, down to her jaw—

She slapped him.

Pink popped onto his fair complexion and he held his head steady where it stopped spinning. He touched the soon-to-be-sore spot, reeling. “I deserved that.”

“You deserve far worse.”

“I’m certain you’ll amend my lack of punishment.”

He left her there for a day without contact, returning on the morrow. Once again, he lifted his hand to touch her face and—

He caught her wrist in the air, holding it out of his way as he bent low, grip already crushing her other hand. Tall and ominous, he rested his lips on her forehead, touch as light as a butterfly’s wings. She shivered, her stomach filling with acid and heat. She wanted him lightyears away, but also…never wanted him to leave.

In a week, she learned that monsters could indeed love, but their hearts were barren black wastelands where only the heartiest of plants could grow. He tended the blossom of his love well, worked hard to keep its petals from drooping, but it was a twisted thing. The stem was gnarled and the face was a void, black nothingness sucking at reality where the stamens should have risen.

He loved her well, but it was a dark love, a bloody love. It sunk claws into her skin and ripped marks into her hide, tearing gashes and trenches from where it cut her deeply. She wanted not his love, wanted nothing from him, but he seemed intent to give her all he could. Smother her with himself.

She lost strength to fight him, gave up her will against his touch when her wrists were bruised and her joints ached. Three weeks went by before he laid her back amidst the bedsheets, fear wrapped around the stones in her stomach. Was he going to…? Would he…?

“I told you I wouldn’t dare,” he said quietly, trying to soothe her worries. One hand brushed back her hair while the other cupped her face and he—

Kissed her.

A sensation she’d never before felt. A sensation now robbed from her. He was so smooth, though, so gentle. His lips were soft, full, and pressed light touches against her unresponsive mouth. “You are so beautiful,” he said close to her jaw. She grew nauseous but didn’t fight him.

He repeated this interaction only twice a week, and by the fourth time, she gave the tiniest kiss back, her action tentative, worried, nervous. She worried it might spur him on, but it took him by surprise and he stopped, lifting onto his elbows.

“Have you…changed your mind, then?” he asked. His eyes were wide with wonder, fully amber and lightning now. He grew darker and darker with each passing day.

“No. I wondered…what it felt like, to kiss back.”

“It feels good.” He licked his lips and she thought—only briefly, right before she kicked herself—she might want to darken those lips, make them red as his tongue. “It feels nice when someone kisses you back.”

“Show me.”

He lowered himself to her again, his hair tickling the sides of her face. His mouth was hot, hungry, and she could feel his restraint as he struggled not to bite and suck and draw blood. The kiss was with lips only at first, extending to tongues. That felt too weird and she pulled back, wrinkling her nose.

“No, follow me.”

She attempted to draw deeper into the pillows but he followed until there was nowhere left to hide. His tongue coaxed its way into her mouth and tickled hers, running along her teeth, picking under her lip so he could suck it into his mouth, to nibble at her softly. 

One of his hands drew below her collarbone and she caught it quickly in a fearsome grip. “ _No.”_

He surprised her when he nodded and backed off, fingers instead twisting into her hair. Nothing she didn’t want, he’d said. Nothing without her permission.

Did it count, then, if she did not wish it but could not voice it?

The next time he approached was later in the night. She had been cooped up in this room, in this space for far too long. He gave her things to do, let her some freedoms, but she was never to leave alone. It startled her, then, when he arrived late.

He wore different clothes, lighter garments that hung loosely from his shoulders, waistband of his pants dragging down on his hips. His skin there was pale, marked with moles, and looked almost soft to the touch unlike the hard lines and muscles of his upper arms. 

She had accepted this fate, his positive punishment for her bad behavior more painful and less desired than his strange love lust. Sometimes it was easier to feign instead of fight. So when he slid down beside her, she posed like a doll to his will. His hand cupped her cheek as it had so many times before and he dragged her down onto the mattress, his arms like an iron cage around her frame. She felt her breathing stutter in uncomfortable anticipation. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he told her softly, pushing her hair from her neck and pressing his lips to the hollow behind her ear. "I want to know you. Your mind, your personality, how you think. All you've been is frozen." 

"I'm fearful, of course I am frozen."

"There's no need to be afraid. I won't let any harm come to you." He kissed her temple, kissed her cheeks. "I swear upon my life you are safe."

"I can be afraid without being in danger."

"Let me help, my love."

"I am not your love." 

Hard golden eyes came up to study her, cold but affectionate, unable to relinquish their denial. "Soon you will be."

A tense moment was baited upon the air before it settled and he lay beside her, strong body ensnaring her, keeping her prisoner. She couldn’t see him, not while his face was buried against her neck. His breath was slow and his fingers danced on the smooth skin of her arms. “Tell me about your childhood.”

“No.”

“What if I first discuss mine?”

“Maybe.”

A kiss searing her skin, he began a long story of a lonely boy starved for comfort. As he drew on, she took notice of how pitiful his voice sounded, how forlorn his notes were when describing his parents. He yearned, somewhere deep, for the touch of a kind hand. He was not good—she would not mistake his misery for contrition—but he was understandable. She made sense of him, his thought processes, the longer he went on.

It did not take long before she fell asleep, tumbling into dreams of this forsaken child and the grim countenance his older self bared. Make no mistake, he had killed Ben Solo, wiped him from space, and came gracelessly to take his place. She wondered what it would be like if his arms were Ben’s arms instead, his love tender and not hungry, not possessive.

She stirred to find she had shifted in her sleep, her hands on the monster’s chest. He was awake.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he purred as he smoothed her hair down her back and kissed her crown. “I’ve got you, darling. Sleep.”

In the days following, she felt almost tamed by that night. The racing urge that had wanted to claw and escape was quiet, hiding behind a pity blooming in her chest. She kissed him willingly now when he burdened her with his presence, let her fingers ghost on his face, though she never initiated contact. His bright yellow eyes always watched her with awe, with hunger, waiting until she would allow him to sate his thirst. She didn’t know if she ever would.

“I want to know about you.” It had been a week since he’d recounted part of his story to her. In that time, he had coaxed her into allowing him to feel more of her skin. She lay on her back, trying her best not to catch his gaze while his hands tickled across a thin strip of pale skin just above her hips. He had tried to press his mouth there but she kicked him hard in the shoulder. No amount of physical pain dissuaded him, though he backed off when she demanded.

“What do I get in return?”

“I already gave you your reward. If you want, though,” he started coyly, climbing along her body until his chest was pressed to hers, their noses almost brushing, “I’ll keep you warm tonight.”

She found no use for his attempts to seduce her.

“I keep myself warm.”

“But I can protect you from your nightmares.” He kissed the space between her brow, mouth lingering against her. “I’ve heard you cry at night. I know they’re there. I won’t let them frighten you.”

“How can you make such a claim?”

“Have I ever broken a promise?” He had not. “I want to protect you. Please.”

She didn’t need his protection and she told him so. He whined, an action uncharacteristic but entirely expected, and he kissed and kissed and kissed until she relented. He made her want to scream, but she relented, knowing he was spoiled and pigheaded and would never give up until he got what he wanted. She told him about her abandonment, her years spent in harsh desert winds and merciless sands. She painted the story of her little home, where she scavenged, the feeling of wonder the first time she’d seen the insides of a gutted star ship. Words spilled from her fast, never having discussed this with another soul. Her voice was even and her tone bored until a memory bubbled, one that made her stomach feel like it was full of thick tar.

It happened when she was still young, still somewhat innocent and naïve, believing that horrible things wouldn’t happen to her, not after she’d been left to survive on her own. She had done well until this night.

There had been three of them, all drunk, all twice her size. Big men, ones with sharp knives and strong hands. They’d touched her, stripped her, beat her. She’d been hurt so, so badly, her insides bleeding out for days to follow. She wagered she only lived because she’d killed one, knocking him hard on the head with a heavy piece of metal. Then she’d fled, running in a haze until she was lost. It took all night to find home again and she hid inside for a week, not eating for four days.

The memory of that night was horrible. And she recounted it to him, in detail, tears spilling down her face. Her throat was so hot, burned so badly, but somehow sentences kept tumbling out in a flurry.

He stopped her when the sobs got too strangled. His arms coiled around her and she was dragged hard against his body, his hands massaging the tense muscles of her back. He said nothing until she cried herself dry, clutching to the material of his loose shirt. 

He did love her in his strange way, she realized through the tears. He hadn’t pressed, hadn’t encouraged, only aimed to soothe her pains, waiting for her to be ready to speak.

“You gave into my touch because of them, didn’t you?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to be anything but cracked.

“Oh, love, I wish you hadn’t.” He squeezed her closer to his chest. His arms shook. She knew he was angry with himself. “I never meant to...”

“You kidnapped me out of the forest. Chased me up a mountain pass.”

“I made unsavory choices, but not about your body. Your temple is your own and mine only if you give permission, and only where you give permission. I would _never_...”

Never force himself upon her. She knew.

His hands came to rest crossed over her shoulder blades, thumbs rubbing circles into her tired skin. “I love you; I know that means little to you. And I will keep you safe, whether you care for me or not.”

The voice he used was gentle...tender. Sincere. She lifted her raw, reddened eyes to see his fierce and wild, angry with the universe for hurting her, angry that she’d been hurt beyond his control. He was a monster and that would never change, but he would always be kind to her, soft with her.

She traced her hand over his hard-set jaw, following the line back into his hair. It was silken, downy, and his eyes closed at the contact. With a guarded effort, she drew closer to him, fluttering her lips to his, the first kiss she’d given, the first she started.

He needed no restraint tonight, keeping his response chaste, almost sweet. She could, however, feel his emotions buzzing like bees in the air over her skin, his elation and confusion and the smallest sliver of hope. Hope she would let him in one day, let him occupy a small corner of her heart, give a place for him to nestle down into the fraying threads between her ribs.

But he broke from her first and tucked her into the hollow below his chin. “You don’t need that now.”

“I want it now.”

“No, you want to forget and dull the memory. You need comfort, not rash action.” He kissed her temple before coaxing her to shift up to the pillows so he could pepper her cheeks. His touch was loving but his eyes were still so yellow, his aura still deep black. “I’ve got you,” he said softly when he curled her close again, coiled his long legs and protective arms around her shaking frame. “You’re safe here, Rey, you’re safe with me. Sleep, love.”

“ _I don’t want to sleep.”_  It came out like a frightened wail, her throat tight. “They’ll come for me, I don’t want to, I can’t—”

“I’ll stay up with you. I won’t leave.” He held her tighter as she balled her fists into his shirt. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But in my sleep—”

“ _They cannot harm you.”_  His words were forceful and he squeezed her tighter. “I _will not_  permit harm to befall you. All right?”

“He who fights with monsters.”

“I am already a monster myself. I have no fear of falling to worse if it means protecting you.”

She pressed her face to his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart through loose fabric and taut skin. “Will you wait the night with me?”

“You need only ask.”

She kept awake as long as she could manage, fear gripping at her stomach until unconsciousness faded in. Her dreams were terrifying at first, filled with fire and sand and the smell of oil, the smell of unwashed bodies, calling her back—

And it vanished suddenly, disappeared like smoke into the air. He stood beside her, his full knight regalia adorning his frame. He held his saber in an angry fist. He had wings in her dream, great huge feathered appendages that shielded her from the outside. 

He kissed her brow and spoke through a mouth of sharp steel teeth. “I promised to keep you safe you, even in dreams.”

“You did.”

“Monsters always keep their promises, remember that.”

She woke to find him still twisted up around her, his limbs tangled with hers, his breath even and slow. His grip tightened when she tried to wriggle free, his hands curling around her waist. “ _Safe,”_  he muttered in his sleep.

All she could do was lay there in the growing dawn, pressed against the body of a monster. Not a monster to her, no, a monster to all who wished her harm. He did nothing but love her with his beastly claws and darkened heart.

He told her so when he woke, putting his lips against her exposed skin, rubbing her back, and whispering softly that he loved her deep down in his hollowed-out heart. He’d keep her from harm, he promised, he’d love her until he burned out.

She kissed him, then, deciding it wasn’t only a want from the night. She kissed him until tears came back to leak from her eyes and she curled in on herself, worried. Scared. Of what, she knew not.

“Nothing you don’t want,” he mumbled into her hair, hands taking refuge in hers.

“I want this.”

“When you’re calm.” It sounded like a prayer. “When you’re ready, not needy.”

“Kiss me, dammit.”

He rolled her onto her back, hovering close as he obliged, covering her with his powerful frame. His lips were soft, gentle, never begging entrance, his earlier wants to run her raw having fallen to the dust after her confession. He kissed her lazily for a long time, one hand brushing her cheek, the other laced with hers.

“I want to love you, beast and all,” she said against his mouth, willing him to understand.

“In time.” He nuzzled against her neck. “Don’t hurry it, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Lord what have I done


End file.
